Flight
by chibi-abi
Summary: Maybe if I could fly, I could reach you. But all I could do was cry and hope that maybe somehow, those tears would tell you how I feel... Final Chapter is HERE!
1. The Flight

**Author's Note:** Guys, this'll be a team seven centric fic. Maybe a little sasusaku but I'm not really sure. But anyway, this is a **three shot!** So go ahead and read it! Oh yeah, don't forget to review and read my other works too! Oh, if you wanna give me a challenge, I'd be happy to oblige!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto, enough said.

**Flight**

The tears twinkled away as she gazed up at the full moon. It was round, bright, and it gave her a queasy feeling that something was going to happen, maybe it was going to happen again. She felt her heart beat faster as the clouds began to slowly clear away. Thrilling her, the stars twinkled in a fashion that makes one think of the stars singing a song, a song significantly and just for her.

The wind blew gently, whispering softly in her ear, and playing with the light pink that is her hair. Her eyes were still and grave, focused on the sole thing in the center of the star-littered sky. She breathed the air that flowed around her, around her room, around Konoha, and around the whole world. She felt the wind caress her skin, calling out to her, drawing her outside so innocently…

She sat up straight from her window seat, feeling hands, invisible, pull her up from her restful position. She remained silent as her hands, having their own cruel minds, moved to grasp either side of the huge window frame. Her feet traveled by themselves, making her squat on the cushioned window seat. She could not find hesitance in her movements and she could only find these motions as natural instincts.

The world was calling to her, she could clearly feel that she was needed somewhere else than this lonely bedroom she grew up in. As in many days before, she felt the same feeling claw its way into her very soul once more. Someone needed her right this instant, someone specifically close to her, and she best make it soon.

Within an instant, her body was in the air, her arms and legs spread out. Her jump from the window was as high as her quaint little house, given the fact that she was a kunoichi by occupation. She felt the fast gusts of wind blow through her face as she was airborne for a few seconds until she started to descend with an ever increasing speed.

Before she hit the ground, however, her body was gliding, several inches from and parallel to the ground, pristine and ethereal angel wings having sprouted from her small back. They burst forth bathed in the silvery moonlight, dripping so gently with their keeper's blood. Carefully, she placed both hands on the ground as her wings shook and shivered slightly. She lowered herself and lay face-down on the grass, breathing in deeply the scent of the earth and rain. Turning her head to face one side, her eyes exhibited coldness and distance, as if seeing distant scenes unfold before her eyes.

Feathers floated down from her previous flight and they dissolved as they touched the wet earth. And slowly, her wings started to flap, lifting her body up in such a fragile manner, as if she could break at any moment. She was soon on her bare feet, her eyes, viridian and yet reflecting the darkness of the sky, were still plastered on the huge canvas up above her. Spreading her bare arms, for she was only in her white and silky nightgown, her wings moved violently and she reached the sky.

She flew, over her strong little village, never once sending a glance towards what was below her. It wasn't that she didn't care, she did, but she was indeed needed so much elsewhere. She, then, let her wings take the lead until she reached a huge and silent lake, and only then did she decide to descend than remain in midair. She blinked and now she was hovering over the deep blue that is the Konoha lake.

And then, to the tune of unheard music, she began to move ever so gracefully above the water, her feet barely grazing the water that rippled with every movement that her still glowing wings made. She had closed her sea foam eyes to the world and felt herself dancing, as indeed she was, the moonlight giving off that spooky and silvery aura that chilled other people to the core.

Wordlessly, she continued to move, her small form agile and nimble. Not once did her feet break the surface of the rippling water. Across and around she hovered like a purple dragonfly, rare and beautiful, dancing in the soft drafts of wind that was around her. She spun, her arms weaving shapeless patterns in the air. The fireflies flew around her, feeling the deep and dark pain hiding in her heart. Still, she remained silent and hushed, eyes still closed shut, ignorant of the fireflies, the wind and the continuous currents of the water.

All of a sudden, her eyes shot open, exposing the green that was often likened to the deepest emerald. Scanning the endless and timeless expanse of blue above her once again, she stopped moving. Only the soft sound of her flapping, glowing wings remained in the dead of night… Her eyebrows slowly knotted as she clutched her heart, her wings beginning to bleed. Sparkling tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she tried to grasp, tried to reach one of the twinkling luminaries above her. She flew up so fast, her tears at once shined away, and reached out her hand only to grasp nothing.

Retracting her hand from the sky, she felt a huge ominous presence near her. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes widening, wondering how she had suddenly gotten here. Beside her, loomed the huge and dark Konoha gates, made creepier by the moon. Her hands fell limply to her sides as she stared at the cement structure. She stared at it long and hard, fighting an inner battle, her fists clenched, her lips set in a straight and grim line. She could not fly out of her village. It would not be wise. Her place was here. But if she did try, which her inner self was forcing her to do now, her wings would disappear and she would be dubbed a traitor, something she never wanted to be. She would be unable to help others and this was her goal tonight.

Her inner self waged a war with her outer self and she felt all her resolve wanting to crumble. The reasons why she should not leave wanted to fight hard with her inner self, who was only crying for justice, for her unrequited love. She felt all her emotions swirl inside her, eating her away. Alive, kicking and screaming, they were felt as her heart pounded ever so fiercely.

She did not know what to think, but she knew what to do. Her hands, soft and delicate, slowly unfurled from their clenched position as she hung in midair, still staring at the stony walls before her. Her light colored hair moved with the wind, slowly and gently brushing against her soft cheeks. Feathers once again started to float down with each beat of her wings. With a sigh, her resolve hardened and thus, one wing covered her face and body. Before she could descend, however, the wing unfurled with a snap and deep, dark, crimson blood started to ooze from the wing.

In her palm, freshly picked from her array of white wings, was a bloody feather, burning with the same light her wings have. It was tainted with her blood, her pure blood. And as she was there, she brought the feather closer to her face and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger, taking in every spindle and every fiber. Deeming it to be perfect, she closed her fingers over the feather and clutched it with both hands, pressing it to her beating heart. Lifting it to her face once more, she planted a soft kiss on it, a prayer in her heart, unshed tears brimming in her eyes.

The wind blew, gales and gusts came her way. Her arms, hand holding tightly to the feather, drew around her body, trying to protect it. She fought against the wind, her determination to keep in flight astounding. She would not let anything get in her way this time. Suddenly quieting down, the wind blew its breath, being content in toying with the hem of her short sleeping attire. She held the feather up to the wind and it glowed all the more, being bared to the moonlight, moving here and there, swaying with each blow of air. Her eyes held the light of hope and desire as she looked up at the blessed feather. With a movement of fingers, she released it.

She watched it, arms drawn around her petite body to keep warm, float away. She watched it dance with the wind and leaves that were shaken away from their parent trees. She watched it move to the beat of her unheard song, glowing and playing with the green shiny sparkles that hovered around. And only then, as she watched the perfect and bloody feather float through the invisible and magical barrier of the Konoha gates to a world unknown and lost to her, did she let out a smile.

A smile of love.

She closed her eyes, feeling sleep coming to claim her. She was tired and hurt but she knew her job was done. Her wings slowly faded away. She sank slowly but her smile never once left her face and never once did it waver…

Her eyes snapped open as the rays from the sun hit her face. She sat up, holding her throbbing head, trying to recall lost memories and events…

"Was it all a dream?"

She looked around her messy room and gave a soft and real smile. She glanced at her window and untidy window seat. Sighing, she started to rise and stretch, wanting to get ready for the beautiful day that lay before her. She stood up…

"No, not a dream."

She took one last look at her room,

_Littered with white feathers…_

With a smile, she disappeared behind the door of her bathroom…

"It was real."

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Target Update: Two Weeks

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	2. Of Feathers

**Author's Note:** This is part two. I guess you can tell who are focused on here. Well, anyway, I thought it would be better for them to be together. Review please!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto, enough said.

**Thanks to the ff who reviewed:**

**sasukefaves: **haha! here's my update! thanks for reviewing! oh yeah, if you have the time, I have other fics you can read, all you gotta do is click my username at the upper-right hand corner! hahaha! thanks again!

**Heartless Ghost: **Yes, I updated at the target date. Thanks for your great comments, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**akire 11: **Uhm... I don't think Sakura has this other self or this other past. She's just magical in her own right. Well, I think she would have done anything to stop her team's hurting or whatever. But thanks for reviewing!

**Of Feathers**

To them, it wasn't a wonder why she excelled in the healing arts. It wasn't a wonder why she would be cranky and moody one minute and be kind and concerned in another. It wasn't even a surprise why they loved her too much, wanting to stake everything they own to protect her yet let her make her own mistakes and hurt herself. They just knew, deep inside, she was created that way, with those gifts.

They watched her every night that they could, when they were free from their demanding life as shinobi. The surrogate father and brother, taking their respective places in the branches of a colossal willow tree planted right by her window. He with his fox-like grin and he with his mask. They would watch her cry, her tears seeming to them a million spears piercing through their flesh. But they let her be, it was her cruel destiny.

She was to cry yet make things better, this was what her dear brother argued, having wisdom beyond his years at certain times. He would stretch and yawn in a very catlike manner, taking care to keep stealthy, but it was hard on him, knowing someone he truly cared about was in pain. He wanted to go in and comfort her, but deep in his mind he knew that the only thing he could do was to reminisce and remember that it was her job, it was her destiny as he found out so many years ago.

In his dreams, as a child, he would see rain falling, the tears of a saddened and twisted angel he told himself. He would cry with that angel, feeling his and her hurt but his hurt would wash away as hers grew bigger. This angel in his dreams would always wipe his tears away as hers continued to flow. And for once, even though it was just in his dreams, with that angel, he felt safe.

Everyday, he learned to keep his happy façade on, never once letting other people catch a glint of all that he was feeling inside. But when he gets home, a loneliness would eat him away. It was hard, for a six year old boy, it was something he knew he couldn't get used to.

He would sit in the rain, trying to figure out why the world was against him and his dreams. Why would they rob something so precious from a child that had not yet begun to live? His tears mixing with the rain drops, he reached out his hand, trying to grasp something invisible yet felt, like the wind blowing on his cheeks. Maybe, he decided, all he needed was someone, his angel. Maybe all he needed to do was to find her, to tell her that he'd cry with her, that he'd protect her as she had subtly but surely comforted him. And then, they would stay together and he would never feel alone again.

With a resolve stronger than a child's, he ran through the dark streets, not minding the glares and the sneers thrown at him, his mind set on one particular goal. He stumbled and fell until he reached the abandoned park, his once favorite place. He climbed the monkey bars, searched under the slide, he hid under a tree and slid down to the wet ground, tears ready to fall, sobs scratching their way out of his tiny throat.

Pulling his knees closer, he buried his face, fearful of anyone who might see him in that state and taunt him to the brink of madness. For once, his bright blonde hair was dulled in the darkness and for once, his eyes portrayed the betrayal and hurt living deep inside his soul. The huge tree did not, could not, provide enough shelter for his weeping heart. He heard the calls, ghastly and morbid, of people who detested his very being. He covered his ears, trying to block all the noise that was making him go through so much mental pain.

But all of a sudden, everything came to a halt. He looked up, confused, bewildered, azure eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. The world, his world, was silent for once. He could not hear the people's shouts of anger, the children's cries of disgust, and the deep, raspy voice that often echoed fathomless within the deep recesses of his mind. Something shiny caught his eye, something was floating directly above him. With his inborn curiosity, he reached out his tiny hand to grasp it and his little fist closed in on something soft. Eyes filled with wonder, he pulled his fist close to his tear-stained face as he slowly opened his hand.

The glow reflected on his face and he felt happiness and sadness at the same time. In his childish palm lay a bloody yet glowing feather. His curiosity grew as he scrutinized the object wondering why it was here and where it came from. Suddenly, he heard the voices again. His eyes widened in fright and he clutched the feather, trying to hide it as if they would take his beautiful plaything away too. He looked through the darkness, trying to see who would want to hurt him yet again. It was silent and the voices slowly faded away with each passing second.

Convinced that no one was there, he held out his hand again, still amazed at the glowing object in his palm. He held another hand over it and peeped through his fingers. He gave a little smile. Even though it was tainted red with blood, it was still emanating that soft and comforting light. It was beautiful, a sight to behold for a young boy like him. He continued to play with it, getting more amused and feeling his spirit lift up a little, when another hand, just a bit smaller than his, covered both of his.

"It's alright, you don't have to cry anymore."

He glanced up, confusion imminent in his eyes. He wondered why this child, roughly the same age as he, was in the park at such late hours. He saw tear-filled green. He knew that look and he knew the emotion behind those eyes, he knew that pain. In one look, she had said to him that it was okay even when tears were pouring down her cheeks. In one look, she had provided the comfort and relief his tired soul needed. She gave him a little smile and the glow slipped through their fingers, reflecting on both their faces. He looked directly at her, memorizing her unique features, and then, that's when he saw them.

Her bleeding and fading wings.

He had found his _saddened angel_.

The masked man watched the brother ponder. He knew the thoughts running in the boy's head, he knew the dreams and the memories, he could read it in the way his clear blue eyes looked. He shook his head, running a gloved hand through his wayward gray hair.

He sighed and looked up at the open window, hearing sobs resound through the darkened room. He winced as he saw the pained expression on the blonde's face. It hurt him too but there was nothing they could do to ease the pain. The physical was there for them to wander and protect her but the emotional and spiritual was restricted only to her. The only thing he could do was to remember and remember…

He was a teenager, practically a genius, and the shinobi prodigy of his time. He was ANBU and he was practically one of the best. Nothing stopped him from completing every mission that came his way, whether he came out unscathed or near death in the end. He couldn't care much about social behavior or public gatherings. It even hurt his head too much just to stay with his team, which consisted of an annoying and dumb male team mate, a doting kunoichi, and a speedy, ramen- loving man for a teacher.

He had learned from his father's experience that his mission was to be completed no matter what cost, be it a limb or a life. He had sworn never to experience anything close to what his father had. And hence, he decided to be silent, brooding and aloof, donning a mask that will truly hide what he feels. He was determined to keep away from other people, so that he would never love and therefore never lose a loved one again. It was the only logical way to be successful as shinobi.

But it was impossible to do. No one in the world could keep away, no one could stop from having precious people. And now, that's why, half his eyes are not his own. He lay there, pondering, the white sheets once again drawn to his chin. Everything had happened so fast. And now, years have passed. As he stared at the all too familiar ceiling, he could not help but feel all human emotions he had kept inside start pouring out. He grunted. He always felt this way whenever he made a trip to the hospital.

No, he had to pull himself together, to keep up the reputation he had worked so hard to build. No one should ever see him like this. He sat up and stared out the open window. The full moon shone brightly, illuminating the white room. He ran a bandaged hand through his natural gray hair. His entire body, wrapped in gauze yet aching, was shaking with the mental torture he was going through. Images of his teammates, blaming him, shouting at him, flashed through his mind, making him want to grab his head with both hands. But he didn't. He could not scream or yell, the horrible and morbid mental pictures danced around him. He felt like he was under genjutsu but he knew it was just all the guilt eating away his sanity.

With each blink of his eyes, he could still see their faces. He didn't know what to do, what to think at this point. The foreign object inserted in his left eye socket throbbed with pain, not wanting to make its foster owner forget that it was alive. He held a hand over it, feeling guilt wash over him once again. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the morbid thoughts flashing in his mind. He, once more, started to think about the possible alternate endings in that significant mission. If only he had listened. If only he hadn't been such a stuck-up and arrogant jerk. If only he had, for once, forsaken his stickler nature and let out the human hiding in him.

But as he continued to stare at the circle in the sky, as he pondered over things he knew he couldn't change, a death, a mismatched pair of eyes, he told himself that he was only a teenager. But his conscience would not let him rest and was filled with the darkness of someone who had killed purposelessly. Being a young teenager was no excuse, it was his job…

He was completely confused. He couldn't stay in ANBU now, they wouldn't let him. His other eye was acting up and it wouldn't stop. But he argued that he was too young to retire, too young to just sit around and do nothing. Everything seemed so mixed up now and he was frustrated that a prodigy like him could not figure out what to do next. All he knew was that the nurse told him that his hospital trips have frequented… he was half-conscious most of the time, how would he know?

He gazed around the room once more and his eyes, both good and in pain, caught the glow of a seemingly distant object. He had to squint, trying to be rational and logical, knowing that no thing could float and glow at the same time. He shook his head. No, he was a shinobi, and he had seen so many stranger things than this glowing object. But for all the techniques he had copied, he had never seen one such as this.

Maybe it was time to retire. He had gone completely insane, he told himself apathetically, imagining floating, glowing, objects appear out of nowhere. Heh… He blinked and the object came nearer. His eyes widened in realization as it flew closer and closer, chilling his aching body. He never felt so chilled in his entire life. It was a feather. Of all things, it was a feather… And it dripped blood.

In silence, he watched as it dropped to his lap. Staring at it, as if it would eat him alive, he dared not touch it. It moved with the gentle sway of the breeze. In an instant, he could feel all the guilt fade away as he gazed upon this little object. It was not logical for guilt to just suddenly disappear but as he stared at the feather, he couldn't care any less. It was as if this feather had the power to absorb all negative emotions. Curiosity getting the better of him, he plucked the feather from his lap and started to twirl it around. There was no smell of blood on it, he wondered why.

It continued to glow as he observed it, making him feel lighter, maybe even happier. It was amusing, this feather. It must be a gift of some supernatural being, he told himself. He shook his head, knowing he was not one to believe in angels and demons. But maybe just this once, he'd let it slip. Shaking all the stupid thoughts from his head, he let out a smile underneath his mask, one that he knew no one could ever see.

"You should smile more often."

He heard a small voice tell him. He immediately glanced up, clutching the feather, hiding it. He saw a child, probably of the age of six. A little girl stood beside his bed, wide eyes regarding him with who knows what, maybe love and concern. He raised an eyebrow at her, he could not tell if she was sarcastic or telling the truth. Children these days were not as adorable or as stupid as before.

"What are you doing here? It's late."

She did not answer but continued to stare up at him. He could not but feel the sadness she radiated, but it did not cling to him. What he felt, however, was his guilt fading and comfort. He considered this little girl to be strange. He then noticed her tears, flowing one by one. But she smiled as she put a tiny hand upon his, where he had clutched the feather…

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

He sat amazed at the child's words. She held wisdom for someone as young as she. With those words, he felt as if he could live again. He watched her, suddenly wondering what it was like to teach little children the ways of the ninja. Would they appreciate what he could teach them from his experience? Maybe he wanted to share what he learned, the lessons in life forced onto him. He glanced down at the floor and he saw blood.

He sharply looked back up and he saw where all the blood came from…

_Wings_ so white yet drip blood…

fading…

_He had found another path in life._

Hearing a huge rush of wind, both males looked back up at the window, snapping out of their dreamy stupor. She had just taken off. The blonde glanced back up at the masked man, knowing their job was done, for now. With a few stretch of muscles, they were on the ground, walking together, leaving her to do her work. She would come back, they knew it was sure. She wouldn't leave, it would be stupid of her…

They didn't know what she was going to do. She was probably searching for another lost and hurting soul to cure. But what they did know was that with each soul she healed, her wounds would grow bigger, with each spirit she raised, her wings would bleed more. There was nothing more they could do for her. All was left was to follow her trail of tears and make sure that, when the human in her awakened and when the angel fell asleep for the day, they would protect her.

So, they walked, in silence, in thoughts full of pondering. They walked, together in this dark path illuminated only by the light of the street lamps. The surrogate father and brother, he with his fox-like grin and he with his mask. He with his hand tinkering with something under his white and wide collar and he with his finger pointed at a certain line in his orange book…

_A necklace, in between earth beads, was a bleeding feather…_

_A book, with a glowing feather as a bookmark…_

And tears twinkled down on them,

The tears of their angel, sad and twisted…

**Target Update: Two Weeks**

**Review please, thanks.**


	3. Through Oblivion and Back

**Author's Note:** The third and final installment… Geez, talk about how great a pain in the backside college has been. I'm so sorry, guys, if I'm super late. College's been hell… oh well, enjoy this, okay?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto, enough said.

**Thanks to the ff who reviewed:**

**Leiral: **Thanks for the review. I'm really sorry if I didn't update on time. As stated above, college's been hell. Well, enjoy the last part!

**-Kimchi77-: **Uhm… The story takes place during the time skip. And this chapter is after it. Well… you'll get it in the end. Thanks for reviewing. Enjoy!

**Sekiryu: **Thank you for the great comments! Enjoy!

**Through Oblivion and Back**

He lay in bed, trying hard to catch sleep that continued to elude him. He was aching all over, his mind not letting him forsake his mission, his bloodlust and need for vengeance. It was cold, breezes in this village completely different from the breezes in the place he used to call his home, the place where everything had happened, where he cried, and hated, and loved, and lost.

He couldn't help but wonder, as he lay in that little cot inside his lonely room in the depths of the snake-bastard's fortress, what would have happened if he didn't leave at all. But knowing himself to be the logical man, he disregarded all thoughts at once. There was no need to remember, there was no need to feel regret. In fact, that was the last thing he needed right now. He was injured, practically dying maybe. Kabuto could not heal him completely, some medic he was, and so he was probably in the brink of death.

He laughed humorlessly to himself, keeping careful to stay still. He didn't want to open his wounds again and die while not being able to finish what he had started. But it was ironic, he couldn't help but think to himself, how the snake's own training and missions would be the death of him. He swore he knew he'd be stronger with that bastard of a Sannin… ever since he got a taste when he first held the power of the curse seal. But maybe, although he'd never admit to anyone but himself, he was wrong. So desperately wrong. And now he was caught up in a web of lies, deceit, and evil, being part of that cold-eyed man's many pets.

He shifted in his bed, feeling all his wounds throb. He smirked to himself. Yes, he was probably a little masochistic. He knew what pain was and didn't reject it. He had felt a significant pain as a child and he thought that nothing else would hurt as much as what his brother did to him. He felt himself clench his fists. He gritted his teeth, knowing that he was the reason for his lack of sleep. He didn't want to sleep. He'd have dreams again.

No, not dreams… nightmares…

Nightmares of them screaming, calling out to him for justice for their deaths. Every night, he could hear their blood drip to the ground as he was frozen, watching his brother slay the people he called family. He would watch them reach their bloody hands out to him for help and there was nothing he could do, just watch and maybe, just maybe, cry. But each nightmare would remind him of how much he truly hated that bastard of a brother, how much he loathed that completely emotionless face he used to admire so much as a child. He laughed again to himself.

Irony played such a great part in his life. He had admired his brother to the brink of idolization. He had this dream to work together with his brother, side by side, taking on all evil ninjas who would dare attack their home village. But it was this person whom he had admired so much that brought all this upon him. And now, he was dying in a cold cot in a room owned by that snake-bastard whom he thought would give him power to defeat his brother.

Ah yes, his life was indeed ironic.

Maybe, for once, since he was dying, he could let his thoughts wander freely. Maybe he could let his thoughts wander to the place he had left behind, to the people he had left behind. He had seen them once before. And he had attempted to kill them too. But in that few minutes of time he had spent with them, practically threatening them, he saw the changes. Subtle they were but they were there. In that few minutes, he saw the changes in character and relationship between the other two members of his former genin team.

He liked seeing the look of terror on both their faces, one with such emotional blue eyes, feeling fear and awe and respect and hate all at once, while the other was veiled, green, but veiled. Those looks made him feel superior, more powerful over them. He did not know who the other people there and he couldn't care any less. He didn't even look at them, focusing solely on the two people he used to consider as friends. Maybe he still did. But he would never know if they would ever forgive him as he knew he was indeed dying, his sight hazy and breathing ragged, sure signs of a slow and painful demise.

He forced himself to stay awake, to keep away from the darkness that would consume him in each of his nightmares. Truth be told, he was scared. His nightmares have worsened. Not only did he see his family being massacred, he saw his former genin team being slaughtered in front of him as well. He would see his brother pulling a blonde's guts out while he ripped the head of a masked figure.

But he never saw her.

Strange as it seems, he never, not once, ever saw her in his dreams. His blonde idiot for a teammate and former sensei were both there, dying by his brother's hands but when he searched for her, she would not be found. He reasoned to himself that maybe she wasn't really one of his precious people or maybe he really didn't care much about her. But deep inside, he knew he was just lying to himself.

His memory of telling his blonde team mate that he didn't want to lose any more of his precious people when that sand demon had her pinned to a tree, unconscious, proved to him that she was indeed someone dear to him. Maybe that's why he wanted to risk something, maybe even his life, to get her back to them, alive…

But he didn't succeed in risking anything.

He saw his other teammate defeat that sand demon. He figured that the blonde had so much more resolve than he did, that the blonde had loved her just a few inches deeper that he did. Maybe because his blonde teammate knew he'd never say anything to anyone but himself that she was practically different and unique in his eyes.

There was a hidden aura inside of her, he saw it when she had been beaten to an inch of her consciousness trying to protect them while they, the blonde and him, were both unconscious. She was weak, he knew that she knew that she was weak, but she was there, knowing she didn't stand a chance at all but gave it a shot anyway. Yes, he nodded to himself, something was indeed different about that girl.

And there was the fact that she never appeared in his morbid nightmares. And this, he couldn't help but wonder why. What was so special about that annoying kunoichi, he could call her that, seeing her fight, who used to dote on him like crazy?

And he never could find the answer in his usually intelligent mind. He shrugged, wincing in pain once again. He mentally berated himself for thinking such thoughts about her, especially now that he was dying.

No, he determined to live. To live so that he could kill that man. It was all he could see in his future, his running, dashing, to catch up to the man he is so desperately trying to murder. But he couldn't help but think about what she had said to him the night he had left. Would he be happy once he had reached his goal? What would he feel?

He ignored those questions as he stared at the dark ceiling, knowing those questions cannot be answered too. He mockingly humored himself by imagining that when he did answer those questions of hers, he had already killed the man and thus, telling her his feelings after. It was logical. It was slightly morbid but humorous to him. He could imagine a shocked look on her face and he couldn't help but smirk. So now, he was not only masochistic but maybe a little sadistic.

The window, he just noticed, was wide open, making him see the shadows of the trees and the bright and full moon. He shivered, remembering that breezes in this place were so much different, so much colder. He was so distant now. He could not see the lights, the mountains, the sights, sounds, smells, and everything about that little village of fire and leaves. Maybe he did miss it.

The light of the moon shone down on him, and he blinked, feeling a sense of peace suddenly come over him. He placed a hand over his forehead, thinking of what would have happened if he didn't do the mission his Sannin mentor assigned him. Would he still be killing people in a rampage right now instead of dying in a cold cot? Would he still be working his bone off, trying to gain the power he so desperately wanted and needed?

He didn't know.

He growled. He didn't know. _He didn't know_! He wanted to yell in annoyance and disdain. He wanted to scream. He was frustrated. For once in his life, knowing he was dying, he wasn't sure about what he had done. His resolve had weakened. He was confused. He was dying and he was confused, now feeling the regret catching up to him, the guilt and regret eating him away like worms eating a rotten carcass. He just wanted to get out of this dark and forsaken place, to finish off what he started so that maybe, just maybe, he could get back to living!

Real living!

He closed his eyes. He sighed. Trying to calm himself down, he took deep breaths, trying to ease the pounding of his heart. He felt that strange sense of peace flood all over him again as he once again glanced out the open window. He admired the full moon, it was so far away and yet big enough for him to see. It was bright and it illuminated the dark sky but it gave that soft eerie glow. It was, to say the least, creepy, but he wasn't scared of that. He blinked, feeling a soft and gentle breeze like the ones in his former home tickle his cheeks. He knotted his eyebrows, confused. Never had he ever felt a breeze like this in such a long time. He painfully tried to sit up…

But he couldn't.

Grunting in pain, he relaxed, taking in the seemingly special breeze that he knew, deep inside, he missed. It comforted him, in a sense. His emotions were calmed down, the wildness tamed inside of him. He had never before felt those extreme emotions claw at him. It made him realize that he was still human, so very human, a fact he had tried to ignore and detest since he had chosen this evil path.

There was nothing he could do now but wait. Wait for his death that he was certain would come. He would wait until he would see where he would go. He was certain he would fall down to the deep and fiery pits of hell due to what he had done, due to the souls he had sadistically murdered. There was no chance that he'd be able to go up where the angels and clouds were.

It would be too good to be true…

He sighed again. Was it because he was near death that he was thinking this way? Was it because he knew he probably would never have a chance to fulfill his goal and go back to his home? He had always planned on going back anyway, and face the humiliation and the dire consequences. But that place was the only place he could go back to. And this, now this, was it because of this bright feather floating directly above his head the reason for his feeling human again?

His eyes widened. _What the…_ He couldn't understand. What was this thing before him? Where did it come from? And why was this thing giving off such a peaceful aura?

Painstakingly holding a bandaged hand out to it, he let if fall onto his palm. It was bloody and soft. It glowed all the more as he held it to his handsome face and in that instant, he felt all the physical pain wash away. He sat up immediately, dropping the feather accidentally on his lap.

He pulled off his bandages and saw no more wounds, no more gashes, not even the slightest hint of a scar. For the first time in his life, he let the shock come to his face and he stared, long and hard, at this little soft fluff. He picked it up again, scrutinizing this feather, wondering where in hell, or maybe, plausibly, in heaven, it came from.

He twirled it between his fingers, careful not to let any strand come off that little glowing fluff. It was tainted with blood. _Blood!_ He wondered whose blood was on this feather and in the back of his head, where the sadism and masochism resided, he felt something snap. But he calmed himself down, taking to smelling the feather. And his eyes widened, there was no trace or hint of blood on that feather…

But there was a distinct smell…

Of cherry blossoms and vanilla, of salty tears and sweat… Of pain. And he suddenly knew who owned this feather and he didn't care if it was odd that someone would send a feather to him. He knew of only one person who cared enough. He knew who would care enough to send part of oneself to him, with magic, with healing powers. He realized that this feather, tainted as it was, came from a pure heart, a loving heart, and slowly, ever so slightly, gripping it gently, he closed his eyes, lying back down on his cold hard cot…

And he slept…

And dreamt…

But not of blood or pain…

But of smiles and laughter…

She glanced up and noticed how bright the sun was today. She looked out the dirty and misty window, feeling a different breath of air around her. Her eyes widened. Where did this come from? Why was it so familiar? She looked down at the medical scrolls around her. They were dusty and old. She had been studying them for the past two hours and there it was again! That weird feeling…

She laid her fingers on one of the old scrolls. She gave a deep, deep sigh. Her heart was beating unusually fast as she reread those characters in the side of the scroll. How come she had never seen this scroll before? Dreams… That's what was written in that dusty old scroll…

_Dreams…_

She had been having strange dreams, she wouldn't dare call them hallucinations-she wasn't mentally ill, for the past few months. She shook her head, concentrating on the scrolls in front of her.

_Where are you?_

She looked up abruptly. The voice was lulling… It was beautiful, familiar. It called to her. She stood up, feeling all her senses suddenly dull and all she could hear were those words echoing inside her head. She felt a sense of familiarity claw its way into her heart. Unconsciously, she placed a shaking hand over the beating muscle. She walked out the door, her mind in a daze, her eyes far…

_Can you hear me?_

They watched as she slowly made her way through the streets. Again, the surrogate father and brother, taking their place behind her, following her. They nodded to each other, knowing the change, the call, the feeling. They had felt it too and they couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and happiness. It was time. She wouldn't cry anymore. She wouldn't suffer for their sake.

And they watched as she disappeared through the crowd, suddenly just a wisp of pink in the orange of the setting sun. He grinned his fox-like grin, nodding to the older man holding an orange book. The older man nodded back ever so slightly and one could see a small trace of a smile on those hidden lips. Within a second, they were gone.

_Will you listen?_

She knew that voice. She knew it with her heart. But she could not recall it with her mind. She wanted to scream out, and ask that floating tone where it was and whom it belonged to. But something deep inside her told her to calm down, that she would find it in due time. She wandered around, ignoring the calls and the protests of people who knew her. She wanted to find this lulling melody…

She stopped, her hand dropping from its current position to down to her side. She glared at the looming figure before her. And she glared at the stone figure enveloped in the warmth of the beautiful setting sun to her left. She closed her eyes, sighing. Her daydreaming had brought her back to the place that held the most heartbreaking memories. How could she move on this way? How could she when she wound up in front of this bench almost every day?

She sighed yet again. And she slowly trudged towards the bench, her heart, with every footstep, was breaking. She sat down, not wanting to believe how she could still live in the past. She had a new life now. She wasn't supposed to feel this way. But she did… she did… and that's what hurt her the most. It's what hurt them all the most.

She placed her hands on her lap, staring at them, forbidding the salty tears from falling. She immediately wiped them away, knowing that they would be watching again. She knew they protected her, she was grateful. But it proved to her that she was still defenseless. And it proved that she was still, God forbid,

_**weak…**_

She could feel a new wave of tears wanting to flow. But she had to stop crying. She had to stop the weakness from overwhelming her. She had to stop her heart from cracking, for their sake. They would feel that they did not fulfill their precious roles, they would feel disappointment, disgrace. She knew they had assigned themselves this. And God forbid, she would want to hurt them by being selfish, by being independent…

But something within her told her that she wouldn't want to have it any other way. And something within her told her that she couldn't have it any other way at all. Because that's what she was. Their precious little glass doll, weak, defenseless. They told her otherwise. But she knew they only said that to make her feel better about who she was, what she could do. She was nothing…

_Are you crying?_

She shook her head, answering that strange voice's question. She could not reveal to that hidden voice what she felt. She could not tell anyone that every night she would feel the deep sadness emerge yet again, trying to tear her heart into two. She could not tell anyone that during the day, she would live with a fake smile and a fake laugh. She could not tell anyone that at night, where things are dark and are not what they seem, she could still hear _his_ voice and feel the beat of _his_ heart.

Maybe she had been given this curse of eternal tears. Maybe it was her destiny. She could hear footsteps. But they came from the direction of the huge and looming cement figures beside her. She knew they would just be people traveling, maybe tourists. But there was something about those footsteps, something strange. Because they stopped. And they stopped right in front of her…

She turned her emerald orbs up to the stranger and found herself staring. And staring. And staring. She blinked. Feeling all this to be just a dream. A nightmare. A mixture of both. She did not, could not believe what stood in front of her. Or who, rather. And emerald clashed with onyx. Night and day once again met in the orange sky. She could not move, could not breathe. She did not dare take his eyes of off him.

"I have something,"

She watched as he spoke, his voice the one she knew from the heart, and fumbled with his bloody hands, as he dug into the pockets of his black pants, not bothering that his entire body was covered with blood and that he was severely injured. She watched as there was a soft look, a distant look, in his eyes, a look she had never in her life seen from him. And she felt her hand being held by his calloused ones. She felt something soft being thrust into them, his hand never leaving hers.

"that I believe is yours…"

She glanced down and saw. A feather. She blinked. She blinked so many times and remained so quiet. Wondering. Trying. Wanting. She could not express how she felt. She stared at the dirtied and bloody feather. She felt two figures appear behind her. There was a huge gust of comfort filling her heart and she felt their gazes on them, he with the once stoic mask, and she with the fake smiles and laughs.

"_Tadaima_. I'm home. Naruto. Kakashi-sensei."

"_Okaeri-nasai_. Welcome home,"

"Sasuke…"

And with that, she launched herself at him, tears finally flowing, grasping his bloodied dark shirt with her pale fingers, her heart bursting with so much relief and joy. And he caught her, hugging her, not wanting to let go, finding the comfort he had so longed for, knowing he was home.

"_Tadaima_. I'm home… Sakura…"

The sky was orange, the sun setting…

Feathers floated down, softly, gently…

She was no longer sad, and she was no longer twisted.

She was free…

_Maybe if I could fly, I could reach you. But all I could do was cry and hope that maybe somehow, _

_those tears would tell you how I feel…_

**Owari**

**Author's Note: **Yes… It's the end. How sad. At the last moment, the part where she hugs Sasuke, I kind of recall a Card Captor Sakura scene from somewhere, where Sakura launches herself at Syaoran and she just cries and grasps Syaoran's shirt and Syaoran just holds her, a small smile on his face… Such a sweet scene… I did my best in trying to describe it…

Oh yeah, this last scene, assume that Sasuke already killed Itachi and Orochimaru, just to clear things up.

**Review. Please.**


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